Arrow Inferno
Chapter 42: Stanley ‘STAN’ Norris vs. Ian ‘WILL’ Williams ~ Daybreak!

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Will yawned and stretched as he woke from a very deep sleep the next morning. His body ached just about everywhere. His head, neck, and arse...

"Oh, shit..." His eyes snapped open when he remembered what had happened between him and Stan. "I fucking gave it up." He groaned as he flung an arm over his eyes. "What were you thinking, Williams?" He muttered as he removed his hand and turned to look at Stan's side of the bed. It was empty. "Wonder what the fucker thinks of me now," he groaned.

He threw the covers off and looked down his body with sleep-blurred eyes to meet his pulsing morning wood. With a sigh, he rubbed a hand over his chest, down to his belly, and then further down to that hard warm flesh. His eyes fluttered shut again as his fingers wrapped around his cock. As thoughts of what had gone on between Stan and him filled his mind, he began to stroke slowly. He moaned in both pleasure and mortification when he recalled the pleasure that Stan had given him and how wantonly he'd acted.

"It was fucking worth it." He chuckled softly as he remembered that first climax and all the delicious sensations he'd felt from different points of his body. Mind-blowing!

And that second release... It had been hands down the most intense orgasm he'd ever felt. That stroke game, the fiery look in those eyes as they looked down into his, and that kiss. Fuck! Stan was without a doubt a pro when it came to giving pleasure, Will moaned as the movement of his hand quickened on his now leaking cock, his breathing fast and audible. That kiss they'd shared had made it even more rapturous, prolonging his pleasure to the point of scaring him. He was very sure if Stan hadn't ended the kiss, he would have kept coming until his balls became flat. But even after that kiss, the pleasure hadn't abated until... Will jerked to an upright position, ignoring his hard-on and sore protesting muscles. "The motherfucker bit me." His sleep-graveled voice rumbled through the room as his hand went to his neck. Merely touching the spot resulted in some pain. He felt some tiny spots where he remembered Stan had bitten him. "Fuck!" Will swung out of bed and moved to the mirror, noticing as he went that it was a little past seven a. m. He saw four tiny bruises that he knew he didn't have before that bite. What the fuck! Will was getting angry by the minute. What exactly was Stan into? Was that some kinky shit or it had to do with some fetish of sorts? In any case, they were two consenting adults and must therefore agree to indulge in whatever shit before either of them do anything out of the ordinary. It was utterly wrong to do that shit to an unsuspecting individual. What happened to respect and trust he fumed.

He remembered asking Stan what the biting was all about. He also remembered the guy looking totally lost for words...which was so unlike Stan. He thought Stan had looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He'd looked dazed and so miserable like a junkie who had been busted. If not for the fact that he knew that Stan didn't do drugs, Will would have concluded that he'd been high and feeling guilty.

And those eyes... Will remembered Stan staring at him with those odd eyes. He'd thought they were different because of the angle of the light. But after that weird biting move, he didn't think so anymore. How had Stan managed to change the colour of his eyes? He could have sworn the guy wasn't wearing any contacts. Even if he was, when exactly had he fixed them during that fuck? What cultic shit was Stan into? Biting, that junkie look, and those golden eyes! He'd looked so out of it as he mumbled an apology for biting him. Surprisingly, he didn't even remember what his own response had been. Will frowned when it dawned on him that he couldn't remember anything after Stan's apology. Nothing at all. "The fuck!" Will's face went red with rage. He knew what the idiot had done to him. He could feel that niggling feeling at that point at the back of his neck. They'd had to practice the art of knocking each other out with the pressure point technique on each other during their training as recruits so he knew the feeling. Stan had knocked him out. "Oh no, I don't take shit like that from anyone." He growled as long angry strides took him out of Stan's room into his. He was boiling mad.

What the fuck did Stan take him for, Will fumed as he pulled on the jeans he'd worn to the party the night before. What made that idiot think it was okay to bite him and then knock him out when he questioned him? He had to tell the psycho his piece without delay. He would pull him aside and tell him what exactly he thought of his shitty move. And if he gave him any stupid comebacks, he would thrash him to within an inch of his life. What better place to have that out than the training quadrangle? Psychotic fool!

Just as he was pulling on a t-shirt, his phone rang. He almost ignored it but then remembered his mother.

"Oh shit!" Will gasped, finally remembering what had happened the day before with his mum. "Can't believe that escaped me," he groaned as he grabbed his phone.

"Will?" He heard the admiral's voice immediately after he picked up.

"Yes, Sir."

"Put your stuff together." The man instructed without preamble. "You will be picked up tonight."

"Roger that, Sir. May I know what..."

"No, you may not. Just get ready." Then the man added softly, almost as if he couldn't help himself, "See you tomorrow, son." Then the line went dead.

Will just knew!

The soldier let out a scream filled with pain and anger. He should have been there! He should have known better than to put his job first! The magnitude of sorrow that hit him strangely fuse into his anger to swell up into a huge ball of pure white rage. He was angry at himself, angry at his sister for encouraging him to come, angry at his job, angry at his mother but most of all, angry at Stan. Will didn't bother with any footwear. He grabbed his pistol and then left his room. No one fucked with Ian Williams. Fetish, kink, or cult, it was wrong to be knocked out like that without any provocation. No one treated him that way and got away with it. No one!